


Mercy for a Songbird

by StarlitQueen



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Loki Angst, Loki has a moment of humanity, Nyphms and Shepherds, One Shot, Short One Shot, Tortured Loki implied, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitQueen/pseuds/StarlitQueen
Summary: Loki is in Germany, gouging the eye out of a museum curator. As one does. Everyone is fleeing in terror of the would-be-king, except one curious creature.





	Mercy for a Songbird

**Author's Note:**

> This has been written assuming that the 'Tortured Loki' theory is true. I know I'm showing up late to the party with this one. Enjoy :)

The Hawk told him where they needed to go. Halfway around the world, in the midgardian territory known as Germany, was a hall of relics and antiquities. Somewhere, hidden inside, was the final material Selvig needed to unleash the power of the Tesseract.

Loki had specifically chosen that night to take what he needed. It had a distinct strategic advantage. Normal security procedures would be altered to accommodate the gala being held at the museum. The gala would also provide Loki with an audience. The night of the gala was to be a glittering celebration. For what, Loki did not know. But it would become a perfect stage for terror and submission to midgard's new ruler.

He stood in the square in front of the museum. He was not foolish enough to use the front entrance. The Hawk was securing entry through a back way, but Loki had a few moments to spare for observation. The architecture of the historic buildings was beautiful, if only by midgardian standards. Many midgardian's were attending the gala. All would soon know his name, fear his name.

The Hawk had found a discreet entrance for Loki that put him on the second level of the museum. The landing overlooked the festivities below.

The curator was to make a speech, that was when Loki intended to strike. But first, a man who was not the curator stepped forward, bringing the orchestra to a halt. Trailing behind him was a wisp of a young women. Loki's attention shifted to her.

She wore a pale pink dress, the fitted bodice crafted of tiny silk flowers, the skirt a flowing cascade of tulle. The off the shoulder sleeves accentuated her small shoulders and delicate collarbones.

She was introduced, but Loki did not hear. He was too busy studying the slender curve of her neck. He assumed she was going to make a speech. Instead, the pianist plucked a whimsical tune and she began to sing.

 

_Nymphs and shepherds, come away_

_In the groves let's sport and play_

_For this is Flora's holiday_

_This is Flora's holiday_

 

Loki's breath actually caught in his chest as her sublime voice ran through the trills and cadences. It was lovely. _She_ was lovely. It had been so long since he bothered to notice anything lovely. For a moment, Loki saw a glimpse of his old life. In Asgard, he had been a lover of the arts before he had been rinsed of everything he once was. Before he had been filled with nothing but ice and rage and hunger.

 

_Sacred to ease and happy love_

_To music, to dancing, to poetry_

_Your flocks may now securely rest_

_While you express your jollity_

_Nymphs and shepherds come away_

_Come away, come away_

 

She made him think of sunshine, of a bright clearing in a forest bursting with wildflowers. Her dark auburn hair, currently arranged in a elegant chignon at the base of her neck, would be loose and flowing in that clearing. She would tip her head back and laugh when he kissed the hollow of her throat.

With a low snarl he banished the thoughts. She was finished now, curtsying to a bewitched audience. The curator stepped up but the little songbird did not leave the stage, she simply stepped back. Perhaps, she was meant to sing again.

He despised her for putting such unattainable thoughts in his head. As punishment, she would have an excellent view of the destruction he was about to unleash.

He descended the stairs, unnoticed until he swung his staff into the jaw of a security guard, only feet from where the songbird stood. He did not watch to see how she reacted.

Gasps erupted from the glittering crowd. The curator turned around just as Loki seized his coat. Effortlessly, Loki flipped the struggling curator onto a stone table featuring two massive, ornately carved griffins. People were screaming, many had started running.

No one dared to help the curator as Loki took one of the Hawk's devices from the pocket of his jacket. He did not know exactly how it worked, but he knew what he needed to do. With one cold, swift gesture he plunged the device into the curators eye. The Hawk would do the rest. Now Loki could have a bit of fun.

As the curator writhed beneath him, Loki looked around the room with satisfaction. He thrived in chaos. It was intoxicating.

Out of the corner of his eye that he spied a single stationary figure. The little songbird.

Her honey colored eyes were fixed on him, not the mutilated curator who had now gone still. During the frantic scurrying of the masses, her hair had become dislodged from its pins. It now spilled over one shoulder.

Loki yanked the Hawk's device from the curators body and slowly approached the young woman. Still, she did not flee. He could not tell if it was fear, bravery or stupidity that kept her in place. Perhaps, it was ignorance. She did not know she stood in the presence of a king, a God.

He wondered what she saw as she stared at him. A madman. A monster. Certainly, not a king.

Even as the he transformed his staff back into a scepter, she held his gaze. There were no tears in her eyes, no fear, not even anger. The only indicator of any emotion was the slight tremble in her plush bottom lip.

He raised the scepter until it's point rested in the hollow of her throat, where just a moment ago he had considered putting his lips. He could take her. He could have her mind, her heart, her voice at his beck and call.

“Mercy.”

Loki's eyes flickered back to hers. He knew this was her only plea. She would not beg, she would not grovel. He now understood why she did not flee. She knew the likelihood of her life ending that night was high. But if she was to die, she would not die running like a hunted doe. She would stand her ground even if he decided to snuff her out like a candle's flame. Dignified, even regal. If she had been born of Asgard, she would be a fearsome creature, indeed.

He should have killed her in that moment. A flick of his wrist, that was all it would take. She was an insignificant mortal. She was nothing. Her lilywhite skin would pierce so easily under the sharp point of the scepter.

But he could not do it. For there was a time not long ago that _he_ had asked for mercy. And he was denied. Just this once, he would not shatter someone the way he had been shattered. Just this once, for her, he would not be a monster.

“Fly away, little songbird,” he said quietly, lowering the scepter. A tiny pinprick of blood welled from the spot, stark against her porcelain skin. Her eyes widened slightly. She stood before him for only a second more, hesitating. Loki wondered why she would hesitate. But then she gathered her skirts and fluttered away, joining the mob of fleeing mortals.

He was still watching her when she looked back at him. He saw it again, that slight hesitation before she was swallowed by the crowd. She vanished.

And the monster returned.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I did change around the lyrics of Nymphs and Shepherds just a bit for the sake of readability. I highly recommend listening to the actual song by Henry Purcell.  
> Should I write more Loki stuff? He's a fun character to play with.


End file.
